


Murder in Your Sleep

by DeerOffal



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Blood and Gore, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerOffal/pseuds/DeerOffal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Intimacy has a time and place, and it doesn't belong to crossed wires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There’s a difference, one that’s delicate and small, between Killua’s claws sliding through thin skin and soft muscle. He can feel the slightest of catches between parting flesh and meeting the sinuous strands of muscle, but in the end it’s all the same, really.  
  


This person stood no chance against him, body watery and normal under his claws. Weak and slow where they only catch sight of him after he’s ripped them open, eyes widening more for his sudden appearance, it seems, than their blood and organs spilling out and onto the floor.  
  


Too shocked to scream -- to feel the pain, they finally glance down to their death blow before staring back into Killua’s face, the light of life dimming rapidly from their eyes, which are accusatory as much as they are mortally frightened of what’s to come next.  
  


Killua wakes with a small start.  
  


Heavy blankets press down over his chest and ward off the cold that permeates the shared room with Gon. It had been just a dream, then, nothing more. Not even a dream that Killua can consider a nightmare, and were he to bother to go over it he’d only shrug it away. He doesn't remember every kill so he doesn't even know if it was a memory, or something new that his mind crudely stitched together from past actual occurrences.  
  


Even though it’d been enough to wake him the dream was inconsequential enough that Killua starts to drift back to sleep almost at once before Gon moves. It drags the covers over Killua’s body in a way that makes him aware that he’s half hard, eyes snapping open while Gon props himself up on one elbow, eyes bright fixed on the small but obvious tent in the covers.  
  


“I didn’t know you had dreams like _that_ , Killua,” Gon’s voice is hushed to match the darkness, leaving Killua’s mind to jump to every implication Gon had just made. Had he been moaning while having a dream about killing someone?  
  


Something must have happened to cause enough of a ruckus to wake Gon, which was a small feat in of itself; Gon slept deeply and soundly when he felt safe, and there was nowhere safer he could have been than sharing a bed with Killua at his home on Whale Island.  
  


Distracted by his thoughts Killua doesn’t have time to shy away from Gon’s hand before it’s placed over his cock through the blankets. At the barest hints of pressure from Gon’s palm Killua lets out a shaky breath, mind clinging to the blood-lust of his dream even as Gon pulls his attention to the present by pressing down even harder.  
  


Killua tries to summon a sense of authority to the building voice in his chest, but it gets strangled and comes out weakly. “Gon -- "  
  


“Who were you dreaming about, Killua?” Gon shifts closer so that they’re sharing the same pillow, his tone of voice pitched with arousal and contrasting sharply with the flickering after images of blood on Killua’s hand and wrist. The two things don’t belong together, side by side, but for all his confusion Killua only gets harder under Gon’s kneading hand.  
  


“I was -- ” Dreaming about murdering someone, he doesn’t say. It’s in times like this, where the truth tastes vile on the back of his tongue, that Killua sees Gon’s own readily admitted thoughts enviable. He can’t say it, stomach twisting at the idea of Gon knowing and judging him over something like this that he himself didn’t understand or condone.  
  


“You’re hesitating,” Gon pouts. Killua’s inaudible sigh of relief accompanies the disappearance of Gon’s hand, but it’s only scant moments later that Gon’s gotten his arm under the covers so that his fingertips can easily and eagerly find the bare skin of Killua’s stomach beneath his shirt. “You don’t _have_ to tell me who it was with, but if you tell me what you were doing _we_ could do it. . .”  
  


Unbidden, images of Gon laying on his back, pink and shiny organs peaking through a long incision across his belly comes to Killua’s mind, his smiling face out of place next to such a serious injury. Killua rejects it at once, balking and changing Gon’s face out with the vague person from his dream in an attempt to find some sense of sanity in this situation.  
  


Killua doesn’t know what to do when Gon’s hand slides into his pants with a confident grip and a practiced touch other than curl his fingers into the sheets until his muscles are tense and shaking. If he asks Gon to stop now, Gon won’t press for an explanation, but Killua finds himself unable to even look at Gon, going as far as to turn his face away. His reaction is taken as silent permission to Gon, who leans in to press lips and teeth to the bared skin without hesitation.  
  


Gon seems to have no intention of dragging this out, fist tightening the second Killua’s made it slick enough to pump smoothly and quickly. Impressions of the dream flicker incoherently through Killua’s mind, legs falling open to the duel stimulation of Gon’s fingers sliding over him in a knowing rhythm, the slick and lewd sound reminding him of the wet slide of organs as they slip from their human cavity.  
  


It’s sickening, and Killua feels he’s more confused and disgusted with himself than he is aroused. Images from the dream continue to play across the back of his eyelids whenever he squeezes them shut with the intent to block them out. Guilt twists his stomach as much as the thin fog of lust. He knows that his wires are getting crossed, because the thoughts of carnage are at least partially responsible for keeping him hard right now.  
  


If he can just stay anchored to the present, here and safe with Gon, it would be perfect --  
  


Killua comes with a moan that’s shaped around Gon’s name, hips pressing up into Gon’s hand insistently to make his ecstasy last as long as he can manage, so he can stay in the blissful blank space where there’s no room for thoughts that orgasm always gives him.


	2. Chapter 2

Coming off the high of orgasm is supposed to be at least somewhat gradual, and there is a reason that people throw around phrases like post-orgasmic “bliss” or “haze”.  It’s how it’s supposed to be, a gentle reintroduction to reality. Something that people only get to enjoy when they _don’t_ come to vivid thoughts of murdering a mostly faceless stranger.

  
Killua balks the second his thoughts are his own again, too aware of himself, squirming away from Gon and his warm body. He had felt Gon’s own excitement for sexually satisfying Killua, but it was a _lie_. Gon wouldn’t be hard if he knew--

  
“Disemboweling someone.” Killua spits the words before resolve leaves him.

  
“Huh?”  


  
“That’s what my…dream was about. I killed someone-- disemboweled them.” Killua waits for rejection, eyes squeezed shut so that the tears that had been welling slide out and down his cheeks, hidden from Gon where they bury themselves into the clean cotton of his pillowcase. Deceptively gentle, like Gon’s hands were made for nothing but trailing soft fingers to caress Killua’s cheeks, Gon turns Killua to look at him.

  
“Why are you crying?” There’s a discernible amount of frustration in Gon’s words, directed only at himself. Gon’s ambiguous morality has never been more apparent than when he can ask questions like this with a genuine plea for explanation, for understanding.

  
“Because it’s fucked up, Gon, that’s why!” A laugh breaks its way into Killua’s explanation halfway, one that’s choked and completely devoid of anything like true amusement for Gon’s odd outlook on life. “It’s fucked up-- ”

  
“You should have said something,” It sounds much more like an apology than a reprimand, strong arms winding around Killua’s torso and pulling him into a hug. “It was just a dream, Killua,” Gon consoles, fingers pushing and mussing Killua’s still sweat-damp hair in an attempt to soothe. 

  
Killua doesn’t sob, or sniffle, though it’d be a lie to say a few more tears didn’t track down his face. Gon cradles Killua‘s back to his chest, making Killua aware that he’s still hard, even in the face of Killua’s admission. 

  
“I don’t care,” Gon says stubbornly, tucking Killua more tightly against himself. “And I’m sorry, I should have known something was wrong.” Killua makes a choked noise, more a sobbing hiccup than the strained laugh he was going for.

  
“You’re not a mind reader.” Killua had kept all matters of emotions from Gon for years and years, always leading to heart ache and separations. He’s supposed to be getting better at opening up, and Killua wonders if Gon is disappointed in this slide back into old habits.

  
“Still!” The soft, soothing touches that Gon is giving him puts Killua further on edge, chest tight and anxious. When Gon’s lips touch the back of Killua’s neck, soft and innocently meant, Killua squirms to turn himself around, hiding his face away in the curve of Gon’s throat.

  
To be coddled and soothed feels just as perverse as having let Gon jerk him off. Killua is so consumed with the idea that he should be rejected and yelled at they stay like that; Killua stiff and curled into Gon’s warmth, with Gon’s arm hanging in the air, unsure if he can drape it around Killua’s waist yet without being rebuffed.

  
After several minutes Killua’s tightly wound muscles begin to relax, signaling to Gon that he can once again pull him close and place occasional kisses into his hair. “This is your family’s fault,” Gon comments sullenly. It’s been long enough that the mention of them triggers nothing negative within Killua, but he can still only offer a wordless grunt.

  
Searching for further comfort Killua slides his thigh between Gon’s legs, shifting so they’re pressed that much closer to one another. Staying like this, it doesn’t take Killua long to start dozing, approaching sleep once more before Gon pulls his attention gently away from the void.

  
“Will you tell me, next time? I never want to make Killua upset like that if it happens again.” Gon is unusually tentative as he asks, like he’s expecting rejection, but would accept it without complaint for the moment despite his stubborn nature. Killua doesn’t miss his optimism that maybe this is a one time thing, either, and it’s an optimism he fiercely wants to share.

  
Killua’s eyes hurt from his silent crying, from his emotions, from his tiredness, and he finds opening them unnecessarily painful. Because of it he feels more drained than he has in a long, long while.

  
“I’ll tell you.” He means it now, in the safe embrace of Gon’s arms, where he can hear Gon’s heart beat and has already been forgiven. Gon sighs in content, kissing the top of Killua’s head once more, heart rate slowing as he finds peace enough in Killua’s promise to go back to sleep. 

  
Killua himself wavers, wishing he had the trust in himself that Gon had, wondering if it’s a promise he’ll actually keep when, or if, the time comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, I took too long to finish this and forgot how I originally wanted it to end. Hopefully this is as satisfying as had been planned.


End file.
